


Found It By the Side of the Road

by Fenix21



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Episode: s05e06 I Believe The Children Are Our Future, Frottage, Hand Jobs, M/M, Porn With Feels, Teeny bit of fluff, Wincest - Freeform, first time in a long time, rediscovering an established relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-15
Updated: 2016-11-15
Packaged: 2018-08-31 03:34:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,966
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8561989
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fenix21/pseuds/Fenix21
Summary: It had been years. Since before Lilith and Ruby and Hell, since before Jess and Stanford. Dean had made no attempt to rekindle this between them after Jericho, after Jess had burned. He'd let that part of himself go when Sam had cut and run, and he'd assumed, on seeing Jess, that Sam had done the same.





	1. Chapter 1

They were five hundred miles out of Nebraska headed vaguely northeast in the direction of a possible vampire nest with Jesse in the wind and the briefest possibility of negating the apocalypse a bittersweet aftertaste on the back of their tongues.

Dean had left the last streetlight thirty miles back, and at 2am the traffic was nonexistent on this two-lane stretch. Sam was hunched in the shotgun seat, looking pensively at the laptop, eyes flickering to the battery indicator every minute or so. By Dean's calculation, the thing was going to die any time, as Sam had steadfastly refused his brother's suggestion to get some sleep and been staring at the damn screen, bleary-eyed, for the last three hours. Sam pinched at the bridge of his nose and squinted, blinked a couple of times and scrolled through more of whatever he was so feverishly consuming off the backlit screen. 

'Dude, would you shut that damn thing down,' Dean said without any real irritation. 'I can barely see the road.'

Sam immediately closed the lid and glanced out the window at the moonless night and then sheepishly over at Dean, mumbling, 'Sorry.'

'Sammy, Cas said there was no way to track him, and if the kid's smart, he'll lay low. So, he won't be kicking up any ripples for us to find,' Dean said quietly, anticipating what Sam had been thinking about for the last six hours solid. 'It sucks, but when has our luck ever been that good.'

Sam slid the laptop into his bag and scrubbed at his face, finally slid down in the seat, folding his arms across his chest. 'Yeah. I know.'

Dean took him in, his little brother, folded up in the seat not two feet away from him, drowning in guilt at the reminder of what he'd brought down on their heads and the rest of the world. He'd only wanted a chance for redemption, and Jesse had been a shoe-in. With that kid's power on their side of the fence, chances were the Apocalypse would be over tomorrow and Lucifer would be a stretched out sketch of ash across the sky, not just jammed back in the cage from whence he'd been so unintentionally sprung. Sam closed his eyes and let his head drop over against the chill glass, and Dean noted even in sleep how the lines between his brows stayed etched deep with worry and self-retribution. 

Up ahead there was a turn off that lead off the road about fifty feet to a small parking area for hikers and hunters. Dean pulled the wheel sharply, nearly missing it in the dark, and the Impala's tires ground and skidded for a moment on the gravel. Sam's head came up at the sudden movement and he looked over at Dean in alarm, then out the window when Dean threw on the break and killed the engine.

'Dean, where are we—?'

Dean turned in the seat, arm over the back, staring at Sam for half a heartbeat before he was across the seat entirely, straddling Sam's lap, arms braced up on either side of his brother's broad shoulders.

'Dean?' Sam stared up, eyes wide, and swallowed audibly.

Dean stayed where he was, ducking down so he didn't hit his head on the roof of the car, putting him close enough to Sam's face that he could feel his brother's harsh breaths and smell the maple and cinnamon of the coffee he'd had sometime around midnight at the last gas station. 

'Dean, I…'

Sam licked his lips and Dean followed the motion with his eyes. Sam shifted in the seat, and Dean could feel the growing heat intensify between his legs. Sam's hands were on the leather seat at his sides, slipping a little because his palms were suddenly sweating. He didn't seem to know where else to put them. Dean reached with one hand to curl it around the side of Sam's neck and pull him forward a fraction of an inch. The contact broke through Sam's initial inhibitions and his palms came up to spread across Dean's thighs and skate upward, thumbs tracing the inseam of his jeans. 

It had been years. Since before Lilith and Ruby and Hell, since before Jess and Stanford. Dean had made no attempt to rekindle this between them after Jericho, after Jess had burned. He'd let that part of himself go when Sam had cut and run, and he'd assumed, on seeing Jess, that Sam had done the same. But the apocalypse was looming over them with no alternate path in sight, and for all Sam wanted to be allowed to grow up, Dean couldn't let his little brother go face the Devil without certain truths being made plain; like the one where Dean's heart belonged to one person on this planet and one only, and he was so fucking scared of losing him right now he almost couldn't see straight. 

Sam was still frozen underneath him, eyes twitching back and forth as he tried to search out Dean's intentions in his darkened gaze. Dean leaned forward and brushed his lips against Sam's, tentatively, felt the jerk of surprise translate through his body as a tightening of muscles. Sam's fingers dug hard into Dean's quads, his hips pushed up and forward, his shoulders bunched and strained upward, lurching him into the kiss like his body had short circuited his brain and reached automatically for something it had been craving a very, very long time. 

Dean scooted forward, knees crammed into the join of the seat, and settled on his haunches, felt Sam's leg muscles shift and flex under him. He curled down in easier reach of Sam's mouth, angled the kiss, and Sam's body angled with it, relaxing almost immediately under his brother's settling weight. He parted his lips, flicked his tongue out to trace Sam's, just the barest wet, warm touch. It had the effect of a live current on Sam. His chest expanded mightily against Dean's, and his hands, so far conservative and restrained on Dean's thighs, fixed a grip on his hips and jerked hard. Dean's left knee popped and the back of his head bumped into the roof of the car. He flinched, but Sam wouldn't let him pull away. His hands were traveling now, grasping, one at the back of Dean's neck, the other in the hollow of his back, tugging, urging him forward. 

Dean knew what he was angling for. Sam wanted friction. His hips were rolling in the seat like a restless sea. Dean's cock was throbbing in time to the rhythm, wanting the same friction, but his joints would only move so far these days, and the car seemed significantly smaller than it had been ten years ago when they'd first tried this maneuver. 

'Ain't got room for it,' Dean gasped into Sam's greedy mouth. Sam was stealing his breaths as he took them, swallowing them whole, not letting him break the contact between them. He whined deep in his throat at Dean's admission and the hand at Dean's back moved around to jerk and pull at Dean's belt buckle. Sam had lost his finesse or he was just too hungry because his fingers fumbled and he nearly snarled in frustration. Dean grinned against his mouth. 'Easy tiger.'

He reached down and flicked the buckle and button loose, tilted his hips and yanked at the zipper. The second it was down, Sam's hand was shoving his out of the way and diving in, palming Dean rough and hard, long fingers reaching far enough to roll against his balls. Dean arched, breaking the kiss, head tilting back and nearly mashing his nose into the roof as he thrust into Sam's grip.

'Holy Christ!' 

Sam took advantage and latched on at the base of Dean's throat, sucking hard. Dean gasped and writhed, felt Sam's teeth working against his skin, dragging out a bruise he knew he'd wear for a good few days after this. Sam's hand was stroking him, tugging and pulling in all the right ways, and Dean felt himself getting wet through the thin fabric of his boxers. Sam felt it too, groaned loudly and pushed under that last barrier. 

Dean nearly cried out loud as Sam's palm slid across the slick, wet head of his cock and his fingers folded around the hard length of him and squeezed. Dean's hands locked at Sam's shoulders to keep him from collapsing forward and just rutting into his brother's hand until he came.

'Fucking one sided, Dean,' Sam rasped as his nipped his way across Dean's collar bones through the thin cotton of his t-shirt.

Dean nodded dumbly and dropped one hand down to deftly open Sam's pants, foregoing any teasing through boxers, and went straight for bare skin. He'd nearly forgotten how thick and heavy Sam was, how he filled Dean's hand so thoroughly, how velvet soft he was over that rigid hardness. Dean twisted his wrist to get a better grip and pumped him hard a couple of times. Sam fell back in the seat, hips rising up and sliding forward to give Dean better access and more room to work. Dean rolled his palm across the swollen head of Sam's cock, getting it slick and wet and then cupped his hand and worked Sam in quick little strokes, just the head, just like Sam had liked it all those years ago.

And still liked it today, apparently. Sam hissed a sharp curse and twisted underneath Dean, trying to get closer and pull away at the same time, well aware that Dean's remembered technique was going to throw him over the edge in a matter of seconds. He tried to focus on Dean, to work him harder, annoyed that Dean had gained the upper hand again; but his rhythm was lost. He couldn't find his way past the sharp jolts of pleasure rocketing from his groin through all his limbs, jamming all coherent communications he had with his brain, until he was gasping and panting under Dean, helpless to do anything but stare upward into his brother's bright, glorious face as he jacked Sam off hard and fast.

Sam's fingers grappled at canvas and denim and leather, finally curled into a desperate fist and pushed into the seat as he gave over every effort into not coming in Dean's practiced grip, but it was useless. 

'That's it, Sammy,' Dean crooned. 'That's it, baby boy. Let it go for me.'

Dean crammed his knees harder into the seat and leaned up, joints protesting, neck bent at a painful angle, so he could get close enough to fist himself with Sam, hand sliding quick and slick over their hot, hard flesh.

'Oh fucking— _fuck!'_ Sam yelled at the first touch of Dean's heat against his own. Dean rode him upward as Sam's hips came all the way off the seat and his body went rigid with his release, pulsing come between them, splashing hands and clothes and the seats. 

'Yeah, Sammy…' Dean groaned. 'Oh…yeah… God. Dammit. Y-yes!' 

Dean stuttered and gasped for air as his hips slammed forward and he came just as hard and long as Sam into his own fierce grip. There suddenly wasn't enough air between them and way too much heat, and the car was filled with a white, fuzzy light that made Dean feel dizzy and disoriented. 

'Sammy?' Dean slumped back, tried to straighten, felt the car and the world tilt in opposite directions. 'S-Sammy?'

'Dean. Hey, hey…' Sam's hands were at his jaw, tilting his head up, steadying him. 'Dean, take a breath, okay. Just breathe.'

Dean wrapped his clean hand around one of Sam's wrists and held on, turned his cheek into Sam's broad palm. 'Jesus, that was…wow.'

'Yeah,' Sam breathed in agreement, relief evident in his voice. Dean felt Sam's free hand brushing gently at his cheeks. 'You gonna be okay now?'

'Yeah,' Dean nodded slowly. 'Yeah, 'm fine, Sammy.'

'Really? 'Cause I think you almost passed out on me.'

Dean shook his head. His vision was clearing of the whiteout fuzz, but Sam's face was still blurry. He leaned back and blinked at him. 'Well, it's been…awhile. You know?'

Sam huffed a soft laugh and smoothed his thumbs across Dean's cheeks again. Dean swiped at his face, scowling. 'Got something on my face?'

'Yeah,' Sam said softly, tilting Dean's head back down so he could look in his eyes. 'You're crying.'

'No fucking way,' Dean swore, and swiped at the telltale dampness again. 'Winchesters don't cry during sex.'

'Whatever, dude.' 

Sam smiled and pulled Dean down for a kiss, soft and searching, and Dean curled into it, felt the traitorous heat building behind his eyes again. He gathered Sam in and hugged him close, breaking the kiss to bury his face at the side of Sam's neck. 

'Not sure this is gonna work,' he rasped out a minute or two later.

Sam tucked his head down. He didn't need to ask what 'this' was. 'Yeah, I know.'

Dean pushed his face closer to Sam's warmth, tangled his fingers in Sam's sweat damp hair where it curled at the nape of his neck. 'Don't know if I can do it again, Sammy.'

It was a breath, a bare whisper of an admission, but Sam heard it, felt it like the slice of a silver blade through the center of his heart. He held his breath for moment until he was sure he could speak in some semblance of steady. 'Yeah…I know.'

The path ahead was looking more and more dim, like fate was going to get the upper hand this time, and Heaven and Hell would see their showdown in the end. Sam could say he accepted it all he liked, but Dean never would. It wasn't in his make up. He'd go along with it, right up to the last second, but he'd never give in. He'd go down fighting, because that was his job, his purpose for living—to fight for his brother, to see him safe and whole and saved.

Sam had asked to grow up, to be allowed to stand on his own, and Dean was trying. He really was, but it would all be so much a farce in the end. Sam had a feeling his path was already chosen, paved a long time ago, and there was no changing its course, and it wasn't one Dean was going to like because Dean wouldn't let Sam go down alone. Ever.

And Sam had a feeling that's exactly where this fight was headed.


	2. Chapter 2

Whatever emotional epiphany had driven Dean to pull over and force ignite their long dormant relationship, had apparently exhausted him. 

Sam had zipped him back up, snaked the keys from his pocket, and found them a hotel thirty-five minutes down the road, where a sleepy desk clerk smiled absently at him over two keycards and wished him a good night when he went to retrieve his brother from the car and pour him into one of the queen size beds in their corner room.

Dean was pliant and never fully woke up as Sam manhandled him from the car to the door to the bed.

'Bathroom?' Sam inquired softly as he bent to unlace Dean's boots and swing his legs up on the bed. 

'Uh-uh,' Dean mumbled as he fumbled for one side of the comforter and proceeded to roll himself up in it like a burrito. Sam chuffed a soft laugh and switched off the light, shedding his jacket and boots in the dark. 

He availed himself of the facilities and then padded back to the empty bed, but as he was about to climb in, a hand eeled from inside the rollup of comforter and pillow and Dean and clasped his wrist.

'Stay,' Dean mumbled.

'Not going anywhere, Dean. Now, get some sleep.' Sam tried to turn his wrist free very gently, but Dean stubbornly held on.

'Stay,' Dean said again, clearer now, lifting his head from the bundle of rolled up fabric and tugging on Sam's wrist.

Sam hesitated. He glanced at the empty bed, then down into Dean's glazed, sleepy gaze. 'Dean…'

Dean tugged again, harder, and Sam lost his balance and barely kept himself from sprawling on top of Dean, by getting a knee up on the mattress and a hand on Dean's hip for balance. He shifted at the last second and landed with a bounce on the edge of the bed. Apparently satisfied that he had drawn his little brother beyond the point of no return, Dean tucked back into the comforter and curled up with his back to Sam. 

Sam sat there for a long minute, hand still on Dean's hip, then he sighed and reached across the space to drag the comforter from the other bed over and around his shoulders. He stretched out behind Dean and lay there for a long time in the dark just staring at the ceiling and wondering what tomorrow would be like now that they had begun this all over again, and listening. He listened for Dean's soft snores to know that he'd fallen asleep, but there was only silence. 

'Dean?' Sam finally whispered.

There was no answer.

Tentatively, Sam rolled to his side, drawing the comforter with him and molded himself along the curve of Dean's body. He slung an arm around the bundle of Dean and blankets and tucked the other under his head for a pillow, then closed his eyes and waited.

Dean's weight was familiar against him when he leaned back into Sam's warmth, and Sam gratefully snugged up closer to his brother's back. 

'Good night, Dean,' Sam murmured.

The only reply was the soft rumble of his brother snoring.


End file.
